


Swing

by RaeDMagdon



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Exhibitionism, F/F, Night on the town, Oral Sex, Swing Dancing, Trans Korra, Vaginal Sex, sassmaster asami, sex against a wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Korra takes Asami out for a night of swing dancing... and other things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Trans Korra story I promised you. I tried to be as respectful as possible while writing it. I hope you enjoy. ^^
> 
> I'll probably hop back to the Facing Fears series next and write more genderqueer Korra there.

Korra has seen lots of amazing things during the past few years.

She’s watched Empires rise and fall. She’s talked to people from all walks of life, from peasants to would-be Queens. She’s been to both poles, the Fire Nation, and all over the Earth Kingdom, as well as stewing in the melting pot that is Republic City. She’s experienced highs and lows, pain and joy, near death experiences and deep friendships, love and heartbreak.

But of all the things Korra has seen, there’s nothing quite like Asami Sato smiling at her, wrapped in a hip-hugging deep red dress.

It’s not the like beautiful ball gowns she usually wears to formal functions where a skirt and suitjacket won’t do. Those outfits are also breathtaking, but this dress is extra special, because even though it clings to every curve, it’s loose around her knees for dancing. Asami’s black heels are short, which Korra is grateful for since it makes leaning up to kiss her easier, but they leave her bare calves firm and beautifully rounded.

She looks a vision.

“Well, Miss Sato?” Korra asks, holding out her arm. She hopes she cuts half the figure Asami does in her own short blue and white dress, and from the glint in Asami’s green eyes, she suspects she just might. (Then again, Asami’s opinion is always biased in her favor). “Are you ready for date night?”

Asami chuckles, but she takes Korra’s offered elbow. “The real question is, am I ready for the trouble you’re about to drag me into?”

“No trouble,” Korra promises. “Just a night out dancing. Maybe a few drinks and a little smooching.”

Asami leans in and Korra catches a hint of perfume trapped in her hair. It’s loose and glossy, flowing in waves around her shoulders. “Smooching, huh? And just where are we going to do this smooching? Not in the satomobile, I hope.”

“We could always call a taxi,” Korra suggests, but she already knows what Asami will say.

“Not on your life. You know I don’t let anyone else drive.”

It’s the truth. Asami is quite protective of the wheel of whatever vehicle she happens to be in. It’s a quirk Korra has learned to live with.

“Fine, fine. You can drive your baby.” Even while Korra grumbles, she can’t hide her smile as she escorts Asami toward the door.

“I thought you were my baby,” Asami teases as they make their way out through the front door and toward the huge garage attached to the side of the house.

“Well, you can ride me later, if you  _ really  _ want…”

Asami grasps her shoulders and spins her gently, cutting the smart comment off with a kiss. The taste of her lipgloss is sticky and sweet, cherries this time, but it’s the regular flavor of her mouth that makes Korra’s head spin and her belly erupt with butterflies.

“Keep flirting and we won’t get to have date night at all,” Asami mumbles between shorter pecks to Korra’s lips. “I don’t want to spend another evening in. I don’t get many off.”

Korra has to admit that’s true. Asami has been begging to go dancing for months, and she plans on delivering. “Your wish is my command, Miss Sato.”

***

The hole in the wall Korra has chosen for their adventure is perfect: not glitzy enough for Republic City’s paparazzi, but not skeevy enough for unsavory types like the Triple Threat Triads to frequent, either. It’s right in the middle, with a bunch of regular folks mingling at the bar, cutting it on the dance floor, and watching the band from shadowy corner booths.

Korra can’t help but feel proud when she walks in with Asami on her arm. As the Avatar, she’s definitely recognizable—Asami has built ‘a few small statues’—but Korra is sure that’s only part of the reason people are murmuring.

It’s Asami.

It’s the way she looks: long pale legs, short tasseled skirt, the deep red neckline that shoots down past her cleavage. It’s the way she struts down the stairs like she owns the room. It’s the way her green eyes flash with confidence. When she notices the stares, Asami stops and curls into Korra’s arm like a cat. It’s under the guise of affection, but Korra knows better—Asami is staking her claim.

“They’re staring at you,” she whispers, her breath hot against Korra’s ear.

Korra laughs softly. “They’re staring at  _ you _ , sweetheart.”

“You’re wrong, but it doesn’t matter. They can’t have me, and they  _ definitely  _ can’t have you.”

Korra’s face heats up, and not just because of the gawkers. Some people are still watching them, but the music is good enough and the drinks are strong enough to distract the majority. “So, Miss Sato… drinks or dancing first?”

“One drink,” Asami says, holding a finger near her full red lips. Despite the kisses Korra has stolen throughout the evening so far, her makeup isn’t even smudged. Korra doesn’t know how she does it. She’s already starting to sweat through the very light coating she’d put on for the special occasion.

“And then?”

Asami smirks. “Then we dance our feet off.”

“You’d better be ready,” Korra says, “because I have a lot of endurance.”

“Are you saying I don’t?” Asami’s low purr is full of interesting possibilities. She tucks her thumb beneath Korra’s chin, tilting it up.

Korra presses a kiss to the edge of Asami’s fingers. “I’m just saying that since you asked for dancing, I’m gonna give you dancing.”

“Then buy me a drink and show me what you’ve got.”

Korra gives Asami a look. While being the Avatar comes with certain perks, a steady paycheck isn’t one of them. ‘Their’ money is really Asami’s money—a fact that doesn’t bother Korra at all. As long as she can eat at her favorite noodle place once a week, she doesn’t care who pays for the takeout. Still, it does provide an opportunity for humor.

“Really? The richest person in Republic City is asking her kept woman to buy her drinks?”

Asami rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away. “You know, Varrick would have something to say about that…”

“Varrick is also a liar,” Korra reminds her.

“Fine.” Asami plants a short kiss on Korra’s lips, one that clearly implies she should put her smart mouth to better uses. When she pulls away, they’re both breathless. “ _ I’ll _ buy  _ you _ a drink.”

When the young bartender greets them with a cheerful, “Hey ladies, nice costumes. You’re supposed to be the Avatar and Asami Sato, right?” Korra knows they’re going to have a good time. She lets him go on believing she and Asami are just two regular girls dressed up ‘in character’ for a night out. Since they’re at a bar, she supposes, it’s not too weird an explanation to go with—although it does make her wonder if other people have tried this before.

He serves them quickly, and Korra ends up sipping a bright orange Scorpion Bee’s Knees while Asami perches seductively on the stool next to her, savoring a much stronger Satobike Sidecar. “It’s not the name,” she insists when Korra gives her an amused look. “I just happen to like brandy better than gin.”

“So you didn’t just get a drink with your name in it on purpose?”

“It’s named after a motorcycle…”

“Which, I repeat, is named after you.”

“If you’re so fussed about it, we can switch.” Asami reaches for Korra’s drink instead, taking a sip and leaving a loud lipstick print on the rim. She wrinkles her nose in obvious distaste. “Too much honey.”

“You’re too much, honey.”

Asami snorts into her own drink, and Korra knows she’s done her job. Anything to make her girlfriend laugh.

Once she recovers, Asami downs the rest of her cocktail and leaves her barstool, reaching into her purse and sliding a generous tip in the bartender’s direction while his back is turned. A crisp business card, Korra notices, is also tucked among the wad of bills. She grins as she imagines the look on his face when he sees it.

“I thought I’d give him a story to tell his friends,” Asami whispers. She offers Korra one of her hands. “Shall we?”

Korra takes Asami’s hand and stands up. “Ready when you are.”

After depositing Asami’s purse in one of the locking cubbies by the coatroom, the two of them return to the dance floor. “Whose leading first?” Korra asks, since they usually switch every other song.

“You,” Asami says, her eyes glittering with challenge. “You’re the one who claimed to have ‘endurance’.”

“I’ll show you endurance.” As the next song starts up, Korra pulls Asami into her arms and twirls them both onto the floor.

She’s got one heel kicked in the air a split second after they land. Asami matches her with the alternate foot, and the two of them spin in circles, hands linked, shoulders low. The tempo’s fast, but it’s not hard to keep up. All around them, other couples are doing the same, tassels swirling and shoes clicking. Korra knows she should pay attention to them—she’s lead, she’s responsible for preventing collisions—but she can’t tear her eyes away from Asami’s. They’re locked onto hers, waiting for her to change steps.

Korra signals with a slight squeeze on Asami’s arm. Asami spins so they’re front to back, and they move sideways in opposite directions, bodies barely brushing. It’s still enough contact to send a lance of heat between Korra’s legs. A loose lock of Asami’s hair brushes past her face, and she catches a hint of the perfume caught in it.

Shaking off her distraction, she loops an arm around Asami’s waist and spins her again. She dips Asami low to the ground, extending her other arm backward. Asami’s face is so happy that Korra almost doesn’t want to pull her back up again. Luckily, there’s a pause as the music changes over, so she can linger for a moment.

“Switch?”

“Switch.”

When they right themselves, Asami takes the lead. She lets go of Korra completely, arms swinging by her sides, and Korra mimics her with the opposite foot. Even when they aren’t touching, she can feel heat and energy rolling off Asami in waves. It’s pulsing all around her, and Korra relishes it, grinning from ear to ear.

They move in widening circles, spiraling apart and coming back together again. The motions of Asami’s limbs and the clicks of her shoes are sharp and crisp, hitting every beat, but there’s a softness to her as well, a suggestive rolling of her hips that sends an answering line of sweat rolling down Korra’s back. It’s not from exertion. Asami is affecting her much more than dancing.

Half-way through the number, Korra realizes she isn’t the only one entranced. Several couples nearby have stopped to watch, and Korra is all too aware of their eyes. At first she thinks they’re only admiring Asami, but gradually, she realizes both of them have become the center of attention. A crowd is watching them, and for once, she doesn’t mind the attention.

She and Asami are together. Part of her wants everyone to know it.

Korra seizes the opportunity. Swing dancing doesn’t require as much body contact as some other styles, but she adds it in anyway, pulling Asami into her arms and holding her tight on the next twirl. Asami doesn’t seem to mind that she’s taken over lead again. They dance the same way they communicate, often without words, instinctively reading each other’s intentions.

When she dips Asami again, it’s at the perfect moment. The music stops. The dance floor erupts in cheers. Korra only has eyes for Asami. Her lover is panting in her arms, a big smile splitting her face. Korra almost leans down to kiss her, but she’s beaten to the punch. Asami tugs her down by the back of her neck until their lips meet.

It’s a short kiss, but hot enough to set every inch of Korra’s body aflame. When they break apart, her lips are still tingling. She’s sure some of Asami’s color has rubbed off on them, and she doesn’t mind a bit. There are a few whoops from the crowd, but they seem distant and indistinct. All she hears is Asami’s urgent whisper by her ear.

“Bathroom.”

Korra’s breath hitches. She knows exactly what Asami wants—and as always, it’s her pleasure to satisfy. She lifts Asami back onto her feet and takes her hand.

Asami grasps her fingers tight, practically dragging her off the dance floor and toward one of the bar’s dark corners. There’s a door tucked behind some of the far booths, and to Korra’s relief, that area doesn’t seem to be crowded. Their audience has mostly returned to dancing, and Korra doesn’t mind the few who are following with their eyes. She’s never been the type to put too much stock in other people’s opinions of ‘respectability’.

The way Asami kisses her as soon as they stumble into the bathroom definitely isn’t respectable. It’s a stroke of luck that no one else happens to be in there to witness the show. Korra braces Asami’s back against the door so no one else can open it, groaning as Asami’s tongue swipes along her bottom lip. Anyone desperate will just have to duck into the other bathroom.

“You make me crazy,” she mutters into Asami’s mouth.

Asami’s fingers slide through her hair, finding a firm hold. “Not half as crazy as you make me.”

They kiss like they’ll drown if they don’t. One of Asami’s knees swings up around her waist, and Korra runs her hand along Asami’s thigh, pushing the hem of her dress up and out of the way. With Asami’s body pressed flush to hers, the pleasant coil of arousal in the pit of Korra’s stomach has become a throbbing ache. She can feel herself straining against her underwear.

Asami must feel it too, because her hips give a slight jerk, trying to rock forward. Normally, Korra would shift back in response, a bit of a tease—but tonight, their need is too urgent. She starts kissing along Asami’s neck instead, nipping at her collarbone.

“Korra…” Asami’s fingers twist harder in her hair, and after a moment, Korra realizes her head is being pushed down. It’s unexpected, but not unwelcome. She slides the deep neckline of Asami’s dress aside to reveal one of her pale breasts, flicking a thumb over her stiff brown nipple.

Her thumb, it seems, isn’t enough. Asami continues pushing her head down until Korra’s face is level with her chest. Korra takes the invitation, sucking the stiff peak into her mouth and rolling her tongue around it. She’s rewarded with a soft sigh, as well as a deep shudder that courses through Asami’s body and into hers.

Asami’s nails dig in behind Korra’s shoulder blades, scratching through the fabric of her dress.  _ “Yes, _ but… lower…”

Korra moans slightly against Asami’s nipple, reluctant to release it. She wants to savor this a little longer, but she knows that isn’t possible. This  _ is _ a public restroom, and they need to be quick, before a line forms or a manager arrives. Later, she promises herself. Later, when they aren’t in a rush, she’ll slide her lips over every inch of Asami’s naked body until she’s satisfied and Asami is a shaking mess.

She leaves Asami’s breast with one last kiss and drops to her knees, keeping hold of Asami’s calf. After scattering a few wet kisses along its curve, she slides it over her shoulder. Asami takes hold of her dress without being asked, raising the hem, and Korra inhales sharply. Her lover’s clinging lace underwear doesn’t show much of a stain, but she can smell how ready Asami is. Hooking her thumbs through the waistband, she drags them down.

Asami’s lips are swollen and glistening beneath, and Korra wastes no time. She flattens her tongue, sliding from the fluttering muscles of Asami’s entrance all the way up to the swollen bud of her clit. Asami whimpers, and Korra repeats the motion again and again. She is determined, relentless, working toward a goal—and judging by the sharp heel digging into her back, Asami is more than ready.

Heat smears across Korra’s cheeks, but she does her best to gather it in her mouth. Asami’s taste seems saltier thanks to the traces of Scorpion Bee honey lingering in her mouth, but the contrast is also addictive. Korra plunges deeper in search of more, parting Asami’s folds with the tip of her tongue and thrusting forward.

Asami lets out a sharp cry. Her hips quiver, and Korra has to press them into the door so the bucking won’t throw her. Pinned, Asami’s only outlet is to tug harder at Korra’s hair, although not hard enough to really hurt. “Yes, yes, yes,” she pants, mumbling and rocking as her head falls back against the door. It rattles with her movements, but Korra doesn’t stop her. Everyone outside probably already knows what they’re doing anyway (and, if she doesn’t miss her guess, Asami sort of enjoys that fact).

When Asami’s inner walls start to pulse around her tongue, Korra pulls back, kissing up to her clit. The tight pink bundle is already throbbing when she draws it past her lips. Asami goes rigid, arching away from the door, and Korra isn’t too surprised when twitching bursts of heat run down her chin.

She doesn’t slow down. As Asami shivers through her first orgasm, Korra does everything she can to extend it, rubbing soothing circles around Asami’s hipbones with her thumbs as she sucks Asami’s clit deeper into her mouth. She holds the seal as long as she can, following Asami’s jerking motions as the restroom echoes with the sounds of her success.

But, hopefully, this is only the first of several successes. Korra steals a quick breath, preparing to dive back in, but Asami’s fingers tighten in her hair, holding her back. “No,” she says, and Korra pouts in disappointment until Asami clarifies further. “Up.”

That suggestion shoots straight between Korra’s legs. She’s already swollen, and wet too, if the way her own underwear is clinging means anything. She’ll leak through them in a moment if she doesn’t pull them off. She does, scrambling back to her feet in time to see Asami step out of her underwear too, leaving them dangling around the opposite ankle.

Korra lets a soft whine slip out as she stares between Asami’s legs. It becomes a groan as Asami reaches down to part her outer lips, holding them open. “Korra,” she breathes, cheeks flushed, green eyes burning. “Inside. Please?”

It’s a request she can’t deny. Korra surges forward, this time grabbing both of Asami’s legs and hitching them around her waist. They lock at the small of her back, and she feels a powerful jolt as Asami’s slickness slides against her. The softness and warmth are overwhelming. She wants more, wants to be inside.

Luckily, Asami wants that, too. She starts a short grind, shifting angles in her urgency, and Korra gasps as she brushes against Asami’s entrance. Hot satin clutches at her, inviting her in, and Asami is so wet that she almost sinks forward without thrusting.

“Korra…”

The need in Asami’s voice is too much. Korra does thrust forward this time, and they both cry out as one. They fit together perfectly. When Asami clasps tight around her, Korra forgets how to breathe. Her entire world is liquid fire and the light, ticklish bursts of Asami’s breath against her ear.

“Hard,” Asami pleads, tightening the circle of her legs. “Korra, I want it hard… as hard as you can.”

It had taken several months of coaxing for Korra to figure out that when Asami meant ‘as hard as you can’, she really  _ did _ mean, ‘as hard as you can’. She draws back a few inches, then pumps into Asami with everything she has.

It’s taken her a long time to get to this point: years of untangling all sorts of negative thoughts. She had almost gotten to a place where she was fine with her body before Zaheer, but then he had broken it, and she had been forced to start from scratch. Weak legs were just one more thing to resent, and like a game of pai sho, all the other tiles had fallen after that.

But Asami had been there. Asami had been her caretaker for weeks—and would have done so for much longer, if Korra had allowed it. That was really the moment they had become physically intimate, she realizes now. Later, adding sex had come naturally, once Asami had forgiven her for leaving and she had forgiven herself.

It feels natural now, moving within Asami’s heat, driving high pitched wails from her throat. Korra’s brow creases, not with worry, but with the effort of restraining herself. Asami is clutching tighter and tighter around her, dripping onto the stubborn inch she can’t quite bury. She lifts Asami’s legs higher and changes her angle, grunting with exertion.

Asami’s teeth latch onto her neck. It’s a sharp bite, one meant to muffle a scream, but the pain lights Korra on fire. Her hips churn, and she buries her face in Asami’s shoulder, sweat sprouting beneath her hairline. Her makeup will be ruined, to say nothing of Asami’s dress, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but this. This moment. This woman.

“Don’t stop,” Asami gasps somewhere between sucking the crook of her throat. “Korra, don’t you dare stop…”

Korra has no intention of stopping. She plunges in and out, using all the strength in her body. She knows Asami can take it,  _ wants _ to take everything she has to offer. Asami might be soft, but she’s far from delicate. Korra can feel the bands of her muscles moving each time their bodies come together.

Come together. She wants Asami to come with her—with her, for her, around her. She wants to come for Asami, too—wants to lose herself in the fluttering silk each time it swallows her. But she needs more. Release means vulnerability, for both of them, and one this powerful requires reassurance: a connection.

Asami realizes it too, because abandons Korra’s throat, tilting her head back. Her lips are puffy, the gloss smudged, and her eyes are dark and bottomless. “Kiss me.”

Korra kisses her, deeply, and Asami’s tongue pressing into her mouth is the breaking point. A powerful surge of warmth washes through her, spilling free as all the pressure inside her finally peaks. Her hips snap out of rhythm, but Asami doesn’t mind, because she comes a split second later. Her inner walls squeeze down, fluttering fast and hard.

Their pleasure hits in waves. Asami clenches, and Korra empties, moaning against her mouth. It’s dizzying, electrifying, but also calming, probably because she’s in Asami’s arms. She has something to grasp, like her glider in the middle of a freefall.

Only Korra doesn’t fall as she returns to earth. She floats, letting their kiss break off into a shared grin. Asami twitches weakly around her, extending her pleasure for a few seconds longer. Each little movement is coaxing, but neither of them can go again, not so soon. Korra can tell by the way Asami winces as she pulls out.

“Too rough?”

“Just right.” Asami pecks the tip of her nose, and Korra snorts, wiping it off with the back of her hand even though it wasn’t messy. In response, Asami takes her cheeks in both hands and kisses her again, properly this time. It’s a sealing of their unspoken the promise, the promise that they’ll always be there for each other.

And the next thing they will need to support each other through is the inevitable Walk of Shame as they exit the restroom.

While Asami limps over to the mirror, one expensive heel askew, to wet a paper towel and fix the smeared edges of her makeup, Korra does her best to blot out the wet stain on her dress. Trapped between their bodies, some of Asami’s wetness had splashed up to stain it. Even though it should be embarrassing, Korra can’t help but grin. It’s proof of a job well done, at least.

“Here,” Asami says, taking Korra’s hand and applying the towel to her face as well. “Let me fix you.”

“You know I hate this stuff,” Korra mutters. She likes dressing up once in awhile, but makeup is definitely Asami’s thing (when she’s not covered in grease instead).

“No, you don’t,” Asami says, and Korra sighs, because she knows her lover is right. Besides, it’s an excuse for Asami’s gentle fingers to touch her face.

A loud bang on the door, however, almost has Asami poking the corner of her eye. They both jump.

“Hey!” an impatient voice shouts from beyond the door. “Some people actually need to pee!”

“Think they heard us?” Asami asks, although she doesn’t look at all repentant.

Korra grins. “They definitely heard you.”

“Just me?” Asami raises a brow, clearly skeptical.

“ _ Mostly _ you.”

“Hmm.” This time, Asami is the one to offer Korra her arm. “So, Avatar, should we get out of here?”

“Up to you. We only danced to two songs.” But the more she thinks about it, the more she likes the idea of heading for home… even if they don’t get there right away. Maybe she’ll see how high she can slide her hand up along Asami’s thigh before she pulls over.

“I love dancing, but there are other things I love more.”

Korra’s heart does a backflip inside her chest. “Then let’s go. I want you all to myself.”

They open the door together, and Korra is somewhat surprised to see a sizable line. The people nearest the front look annoyed, but others are merely amused. There are a few wolf whistles, and Korra feels Asami clutch her arm tighter. She ducks her face in what seems like embarrassment, hiding beneath the curtain of her long black hair, and it isn’t until they make it out of the bar that Korra realizes she’s been trying not to laugh the whole time.

As soon as they burst out into the night, Asami loses it. She doubles over in a fit of giggles, and Korra joins her, laughing until her stomach hurts and her eyes water. She doesn’t know why it’s so funny—this could very easily make the papers if other people don’t make the same assumption the bartender did—but she doesn’t care. It’s worth it. Adventures like this with Asami are worth it.

They cling to each other until they’re finally able to stop howling. Even with all the breathing techniques Tenzin has taught her, it takes Korra a while to calm down. “You’re crazy, Asami Sato,” she gasps, wiping her eyes.

Asami leans forward, resting their foreheads together. “I picked you. What does that say?”

“That love makes smart people do crazy things,” Korra whispers. They kiss one more time, gently. “Come on, let’s go home.”


End file.
